33. Galen

Chapter 33

Galen

G alen announced his arrival at the farm by beeping the horn in the truck as he rolled through the gate. Had there been goats, even secured behind good sturdy fences, they would have gotten out. Earl had always admonished his son to keep the gate closed unless it needed to be opened.

The Conners had been told this, though it didn't seem to occur to them that rules were there for a good reason.

As Galen parked, he could see the door to the shed was open, that the lavender, which should be coming into full bloom, was drooping in the heat. Which was because, as he could easily see, the irrigation pump was, yet again, not working.

The engine was whirring because the pump was trying to go, but couldn't.

Someone could easily make sure the system was turned off, take off the lid, and figure out why. Check the wires or the intake valve. Or call for the nearest handyman to fix it. But nobody had.

The Connors had been told how to keep the place running, but evidently Galen's trust in them had been misplaced.

Heat simmered in the air as Galen took all of this in, fury blazing behind his eyes, his chest pumping hard.

The door on the screened-in porch flapped open. The spring mechanism to control it must have been broken, for the door slammed shut as Mr. and Mrs. Conners, baby Connie in her arms, walked over to him in a pleasant, graceful way.

As if they imagined some Instagrammer was in the bushes filming their every move. As if they did not care in the least that Galen's world was falling apart around him.

"Thought I'd come out to see you folks," he said, setting his cowboy hat back a bit on his forehead, in case the shadow of the brim made it seem like he was glaring. "Do some repairs. Maybe to convince you to stay."

"That's not going to work for us," said Dana. "We've got papers for you to sign releasing us from further obligations."

"Like damage to my farm and crops?"

Galen's question came out clipped and hard and he didn't care. They'd gotten a lawyer involved when a good farewell handshake, and some understanding about the deposit, would have worked just as well. On the other hand, they were out good money that they didn't have to spend, and too bad for them.

"Come on in," said Dana, nonchalant, waving Galen close in a friendly way. Inviting Galen inside his own home. "Everything's ready for you to sign."

The porch was warm, but not overly so, but the inside of the house was cool, a blessing on such a hot summer day. It was the way the house had been built, decades before, a century, maybe. With thick stone foundations, and stone halfway up the first story. The windows were thick, keeping changes in temperature out, and the whole of it had been well maintained.

Now, though, the inside of the house had been decorated and set up as though there might be a troop of lookie-loos marching through at any moment, hoping to get a glimpse of how things worked. At the little cameras on tripods. There were circle lights, just about everywhere he looked. Lace draped over the side of the sofa in a useless way. Dried flowers, artistic and crumbling, were strung from the ceiling.

In the kitchen, the wooden farm table was covered with a flowered tablecloth. Which didn't look bad, just out of place.

On the table was a folder. As Dana spread the papers out and handed Galen a pen, it was easy to see, because Galen could read, that the form required Galen to release the Conners from any and all responsibility and damages, and that he would not impinge on future use of images, moving and still, that might show the farm as the Conners had used it—in perpetuity.

Galen knew he was in over his head. That when he rented the farm to the Connors, he should have had them sign a contract. Rather than trusting their smiles and pretty faces and earnest promises about their creative plans for the place.

Galen also knew that even if he had months of work to get the farm back to its former glory, though he'd rather work his ass off than see the Conners on the property even one more day.

"You're required to vacate by tomorrow," he said.

"We don't have to do that," replied Dana. "We have till the end of the month. We agreed when we talked on the phone earlier."

"You've destroyed all the hard work my dad and I put into the farm," said Galen. "And now you're leaving earlier than we originally agreed, which alleviates you of any rights." He felt ice cold all over again. "I can have the sheriff here in ten minutes, and he'd drag you right off my property. And I'm keeping your deposit."

He was so angry, and he wasn't even breathing hard.

He could almost hear Bede whispering in his ear, saying, Give ‘em hell, Galen . Because now he had someone in his corner. Not a dying father. Not a ranch foreman who followed all the rules. He had Bede, tough, experienced Bede, and Bede would want him to look out for himself.

He pulled out his cell phone and dialed the sheriff's number.

It was answered in two rings by Deputy Munroe. Galen would rather have spoken to the head guy, Sheriff Lamont, but this would do.

Galen explained the situation and how he wanted the Conners to vacate. He didn't bother to lower his voice so that the Conners heard every single word. Standing there all in a row, their eyes were wide with shock, as if they'd never been told no in their entire lives.

"They did what to the lavender?" asked Deputy Munroe, sounding as horrified as if the lavender had been growing in his own garden.

"They've not watered it. Not all summer. Or weeded. It's about to go brown and that's my whole crop ruined."

"You don't say," said Deputy Munroe, in a slow, cold way.

It was then that Galen remembered that even though Munroe wasn't from the area, being a transplant from Colorado, he was fiercely loyal to the citizens in his district. That, in fact, he might express more urgency about the matter than even the sheriff would.

"I'll be out there in ten," said Deputy Munroe.

"I've given them till tomorrow at five," said Galen, a little unsettled by the low growl that hunkered beneath Munroe's response.

"I'll be out there in ten," said Deputy Munroe again, and then he hung up the phone. "And they leave today."

"Better start packing," said Galen as he looked at the Instagram couple and their little girl. "He did not sound pleased."

Maybe the Conners didn't know how far the range of a sheriff's deputy went. Maybe they only knew county sheriffs from their movies and TV shows. Maybe they were hoping to record a story that would justify their next reel being entitled Scary Sheriff Ran Us Out of Our Rental - We Are Shocked!

Galen was sick of it. Sick of the whole thing. He didn't want to stick around for the deputy, but he'd call, and then he'd come back later that week, in the evening, to take stock of the place.

He might have to hire someone to make sure of the lavender and get a beekeeper out to make sure of the bees. Everything could wait, because now he needed to get back to the valley. Back to Bede.

Once in the truck, it took everything he had not to gun his engine and spray gravel all over the place. He even left the gate open, not stopping to shut it, because the Conners were, very likely, just going to leave it open again when they left, anyway.

It took too long to get back to the valley, in the heat that simmered over everything, making the grass shimmer and the gravel reflect up hot silver.

When he got to the valley, he probably drove too fast down the switchbacks, and yes, he spun some gravel, but he was so grateful to arrive in the parking lot that after he turned off the engine, he sat there with his fingers clawed around the steering wheel, his whole body vibrating.

There was a light tap at his window. Bede. Standing in the long shadows of pine trees, waiting like a sentinel. Waiting for Galen.

Without preamble, Galen tumbled out of the truck and into Bede's arms, who held him tightly. There were soft whispers in his ear. The words he could not recognize, but the intention he could. Bede meant to soothe him.

He wanted to spill the whole sordid tale, but there wasn't anything Bede could do about it. So he described it as briefly as he could so Bede wouldn't worry.

"They were horrible tenants, but I got rid of them," said Galen. "I have to figure out how to pay those bills, but at least I kept their deposit, so that's something."

"We'll figure something out," Bede said, hooking his arm around Galen's neck. "Don't you worry. Now, let's get you something to eat."

The last thing Galen wanted to do was eat, but he knew he should, so he let Bede pull him to the mess tent. Let himself be guided to stand in the buffet line. Filled his plate with chicken and waffles, cornbread pudding, green beans and walnuts. It was one of his favorite meals, but he could barely stand to eat a bite. Only Bede's watchful gaze and the gentle push of Bede's thigh against his got him in motion.

As he ate, the general chatter rose up around him. It'd be movie night again, since it was so warm and still.

"We can duck out," said Bede, lowering his chin, giving Galen's shoulder a brush with his own. "Sound good?"

"Yes."

Of course, it sounded good. The best. He was all in, but as he looked over at Toby and Owen sitting by themselves, comparing phones as they shoveled food in their mouths, he knew he'd been neglecting his team. "Were you guys able to scan and send your applications to the counselor?" he asked Bede.

"Yeah," said Bede. "Micah ate it up." Bede gave Galen a grin, as if to remind him of what a bad boy he was, and how he didn't care about convention.

"And Toby and Owen?" Galen asked. He'd have to ask Toby and Owen personally, but it'd be nice to be prepared for the answer.

"Would you believe," said Bede, his eyebrows flying up. "Toby's got a background in woodwork. Carpentry. He's a natural, the real deal, even though he's only taken high school wood shop. And, turns out, Owen used to be a locksmith. Got into trouble over some gambling debts and went to the dark side."

"Oh, yeah, that's in the file," said Galen, his spirits going up. "Did Micah say anything back about it?"

"Yeah, he said he was thrilled. Said he had contacts and could hook them up with an interview when the summer's over."

The summer being over was now a black spot for Galen that didn't just threaten to grow larger and obscure everything else, it promised it. If he didn't get new tenants in to help him pay the bill, he was going to lose the farm.

"I'm done," he said, pushing his plate away from him.

"Me too," said Bede, though he made the statement turn into a question. Then he leaned forward so nobody could over hear them. "Let's go swimming. Just you and me."

"I just need a towel and my swimsuit," Galen said as he got up and cleared his place. Focusing on the small details rather than anything else.

"Why the swimsuit," said Bede, whispering wickedly in his ear. "Maybe the others might come to the dock, but not until the movies are over. You know? Besides," he added as they trotted down the wooden steps. "I'll keep watch."

Galen felt a laugh bubble up inside of him, and he gave Bede a shove. "Go on. I'll meet you there."

Once at his tent, Galen hurried into his swim trunks, grabbed a towel and a t-shirt to throw on afterwards, and slipped his cowboy boots onto his bare feet. This was perfect. Just Bede and him. He'd swim his troubles away, and then have Bede to snuggle up to afterward.